Guest Info Plot & Events

Current Month 3.2591 A.R. 9th Interval

Southern Winds has plotted events roughly every OOC week. This means our story is ever evolving and Southern Winds is changing. Events for the current month are listed here, once you've registered for an account.

Our roleplay time is pretty fluid. We allow you to play anything that may have happened in the past, but not in the future, as events that may affect the entire weyr may ruin futuristic plots.

We list Flights, Clutches, and Hatchings for both Dragons and Flits here, as well as whers. There are Candidate events and classes and Crafter plots. A little bit of something for everyone.

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We are a mature, 9th Interval AU Pern. We've destroyed almost the entire planet in a catastrophic event. While we feature 2 new mutations, we stick pretty close to canon. We've Ranks, roles, and positions for just about anyone who wants to get involved, with a relaxed community. Play and post at your own pace. Swing by and say hello!

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Southern
Winds is a Mature Roleplay. This means we allow for sexual, violent
content that would be found in a struggling, 9th Interval Pern. Sex is
common place in the Weyr and terrible deaths are no stranger here. As
such, our players should be 18+. These themes are to be handled maturely
at all times.

That the Pass had ended still felt unreal. Every morning when he woke, Y’kin expected to hear that Threadfall had returned—that it had simply been an unusually long break between Falls; that their hope of something better was all wrong; that the tiny little island oasis they had found for themselves would disappear in another burst of fire, darkness, and silvery filaments falling from the sky to devour everything that lived.

But it had been months now, and there was no sign of their dreaded enemy returning. Life would still not be easy, but… maybe they had a chance. Maybe. Despite all the things still against them.

Y’kin wanted so badly to be an optimist, but it just didn’t seem realistic.

The entirety of their new weyr was still rough. Many of the secondary and tertiary tunnels and chambers hadn’t been smoothed out yet—some hadn’t even been constructed, though he knew the Miners, Smiths, and anyone else capable were working night and day to make sure the place would be ready for the entire population soon enough. Most everyone from Fort Weyr had moved already, though a skeleton crew remained behind to protect the Holders who had yet to move just in case. But the Weyr Hall, at least, had been finished: one of the first things to be smoothed out and made usable. They had to have somewhere to eat their meals, after all.

It was from that chamber that Y’kin made his way out into the short tunnels that led to their new Weyr Bowl. Already much hotter than the springs at Fort, the sun over this island baked down pleasantly warm on the soft grass. Grass! He couldn’t rightly remember the last time he’d even seen it, much less in such abundance. If he wasn’t being called along with all the other riders for an official meeting, Y’kin would have taken off his boots just to feel it between his toes and under the soles of his feet.

Maybe after the meeting, his dragon suggested from where he lay on the ledge of the weyr they’d claimed for themselves. He, too, was enjoying the unending rays of sun. They might give us a small break before we resume our duties.

//I hope so.// Only absently paying attention, Y’kin skirted around those standing in groups to join the fringes of the riders steadily flowing out of the Hall and into the Bowl. They’d been told that morning that their Wing assignments would be announced after lunch—and it was quite a spectacle to see virtually every rider left on Pern all clustered in their new home. Simultaneously an impressive sight and a sobering one.

There were… so few of them left.

It’s better than it could have been. We all could have died this Pass.

Arms folded over his chest, Y’kin idly rocked his weight back onto his heels and waited for the announcements to start. They didn’t take long to begin—the new Wingleaders had already been assigned by the Weyrleadership, pulled from among all those that had held rank at Fort Weyr. Here, they’d been consolidated down to only four: or so Y’kin guessed from the fact that only four men stood before them all.

They introduced themselves first as the leaders of the new wings—Beach, Jungle, Mountain, and Prairie. Names that actually had the Brown rider smiling faintly in amusement. Wingseconds were announced next, two for each Wing as per tradition.

And then the Wingrider announcements began—each rider and dragon pair named, followed by which Wing they would now be a part of.

//They’re going in alphabetical order,// Y’kin groaned inwardly. It was the most logical way to list all the remaining riders, but it meant he was in for a long wait. With his name so far down toward the bottom of the list, he knew he might as well get comfortable. They would be there a while.

//Shard it.// Uncaring about the odd glances of those nearby, Y’kin bent and took off his boots, hooking them among the fingers on his left hand. Curled his toes in the grass and dirt. Faranth, that felt good. Was grass normally so soft and green?

He felt an amused thrum in his head from Aduskoth, but the Brown didn’t comment.

If Y’kin had any mind for names, he might have tried to make note of which riders were going where. But it didn’t really matter to him; either they would be in his Wing or not. And he’d have more than enough time to get to know the ones that did. Where else would they be going? This was the only living land left on Pern.

Nevertheless, he did perk up as they finished announcing the few riders whose names began with X. Absently, he bounced on his feet as he waited through the Y names that would come before his own. Already Y’kin had given up on propriety; if whoever his superiors ended up being had a problem with his not currently wearing shoes, so be it. But he wasn’t going to put the boots back on unless explicitly ordered to do so, or to do something that would be best done with footwear. Soon, regardless, he would be joining one of the four clusters of riders that had broken off to different spots in the Weyr Bowl. There weren’t many left that hadn’t already been assigned.

“Yinaya of Rantasyth, Prairie Wing.”

Wait. What?

The sound of that name hit him like a burst of dragonflame to the chest, knocking the breath from Y’kin in shock. Yinaya? That was a name he hadn’t heard in so long—one he’d even stopped whispering to himself long ago. How many turns prior had he given up hope that either of his parents would cross his path, much less that they were still alive? But Yinaya wasn’t a common name… he’d never met anyone with it, not in all of his years in the crowded tunnels of High Reaches Weyr and then Fort.

Was she…

Everything felt like it was in a fog, like Y’kin was stuck in one of the many dreams that he’d had over the turns about his parents. About being saved by faceless riders and their dragons. Rooted to the spot, Y’kin watched the remaining riders with all the intensity he usually lacked—who was she? Which one?

There she was.

A slip of a thing, short and slight, and younger looking than he would have imagined her. Maybe… it wasn’t her? But she was smiling as she made her way toward the group of Prairie riders, and she passed almost within arm’s length. Y’kin caught sight of her face—was there some resemblance there, or was that just misplaced hope?—of her dark hair, her brown eyes…

Y’kin, your name. They’ve called your name.

Stunned as he was, he’d almost missed it. But he just managed to catch the tail end of it. “—of Aduskoth, Prairie Wing.”

Prairie. Prairie. The same wing as—

He burst into motion then, and nevertheless felt like he floated the quick steps to close the distance between them. She hadn’t quite reached the group of other riders. Breathless, Y’kin didn’t have the presence of mind to be even close to embarrassed. “Y-your name is Yinaya?”

Arriving at Fort Isle was surreal. It’d taken several sevenday for Yinaya to realize she didn’t need to fight thread. She’d already jerked away, in the middle of the night, sweating… Terrified she’d missed a shift, that she’d overslept, that something was wrong.

Only now was she starting to sleep through the night. Were her scars starting to really heal. Had she actually smiled.

New wing assignments. It was real. This wasn’t some odd dream. The Thread flying wings were being disbanded and broken up into Wings appropriate for the new island. Named aptly. Mountain, Beach, Jungle, and Prairie. Yinaya hadn’t been a part of the naming or dolling out of the Riders, but she already knew she’d be placed in Prairie. By her understanding, the fact Rantasyth was on the mend from recent thread scoring meant they were to be assigned there.

So she didn’t rush out to the weyrbowl – the weyrbowl covered in grass! – when the announcement went up. Rantasyth was still slow moving but her green was excited, exhilarated really. Her mood had improved exponentially since thread had stopped falling. Her dragon trotted, trilled, and in all acted like a dragonet. Perhaps making up for the time she’d not really been able to. Both of them had gone into their training with a mindset that it had to be learned, and mastered, so they didn’t die.

But now?

“The air here even smells… better,” Yinaya remarked as she joined the other Riders whose name was being called.

All the better.

She barely heard her own get called. Yinaya made her way over toward the Prairie Wing designation, stretching somewhat in the fresh air. Before she could even make it over to the others though, someone stopped her. Unfamiliar, but far younger than she was, the Rider asked for clarification on her name. Yinaya brushed stray strands of hair from her eyes and, smiling, said, “Mmm, my name is Yinaya. Why?”

What a question! Now that he was confronted with it all, Y’kin almost didn’t know what to say. Almost. But rather than giving in to the embarrassment he did feel, he pressed onward. Wary. Curious. Hopeful. “Are you from High Reaches Weyr?” If no, then that was that. It couldn’t be her at all. And as much as he wanted so badly for this woman to be who he hoped she was, Y’kin was fully aware that she might not be. Probably was not.

Ever skeptical, especially about things that seemed to good to be true. This chance meeting was one of those.

She may still be related even if she’s not your mother, Aduskoth reflected, though he was approaching the situation just as cautiously as his rider was. Perhaps it’s a family name?

Belatedly, Y’kin realized that this would be just as much of a shock to her too, if it was true… and maybe he’d mis-stepped? Would she even care that they were related, if they actually were? Maybe she’d never come visit him in the Creche in part because she had no interest. That would be an awkward thing, especially since they were destined to be Wingmates now. Hopefully this woman wouldn’t hold it against him.

Yinaya watched the odd young Rider who had seemed so excited to see her a moment before and was now quite anxious. Rantasyth had been walking right along with her and she now nosed his hair, willfully invading his personal space. With a soft laugh, Yinaya waved her off. “Don’t mind her. Since she’s in the process of recovering and we don’t have to fly Thread anymore, she’s become a bit incorrigible.”

At his question, Yinaya shrugged a shoulder. “I was, yeah. But I think a lot of us were, hm?” She was becoming more and more confused by him the longer they were standing around one another, especially since they were supposed to be joining up with the now newly grouped Prairie Wing. “Did we… Should I know you?” Unfortunately she’d not been paying attention to anyone’s name because… well, it hadn’t really mattered to her, to be honest. Some of the familiar faces were people she’d already flown in a Wing with, and others she’d get to know because they were all stuffed on the same island.

As intent as he was, it actually startled Y’kin when the woman’s dragon—Rantasyth, right?—nosed his hair. But rather than being upset or angry, he just laughed and reached up to gently pat the Green’s nose as she pulled away. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.” Words he directed half at the dragon herself as well as her rider.

At Yinaya’s question, he thought for a moment, chewing on his lower lip. “I… well. I was born at High Reaches and raised in the Creche. All I ever knew of my parents was that my mother’s name was Yinaya.” He shrugged a bit. “So when I heard your name called, I thought maybe you were her.” Shards, that had sounded better in his head than it did saying it out loud. So Y’kin followed it up with, “But I'm probably mistaken.”

He offered a hand to shake then, and inclined his head to the group of other Prairie riders. “Anyway, my name is Y’kin, and I’m sorry if I’ve bothered you. I suppose we should join them.”

Rantasyth shuffled to move partially behind Yinaya. Though she was injured, and still recovering, the threadscoring didn’t seem to be bothering either her movement or mood. If anything, she was becoming just as curious about the boy as Yinaya was.

His story about why he was interested actually perked her interest all the more. While Yinaya had several children over the course of the Pass, she’d had to leave them in the crèche. Whether or not the workers there had ever bothered to tell her babes their mother’s name… Well, she’d never known. She blinked, forgot she was holding her breath, before Yinaya actually started laughing.

She tugged the boy into a rough hug. Thread stopped falling. There was an island they could all start over. And here? This was probably her son. The odds there was another woman running around in the history of Pern named Yinaya? Psht.

Rantasyth actually trilled her excitement and pranced in place before she nosed at him again. We should find our other children, yes? Find all our missing babies now that Thread isn’t falling anymore, she thought, eyes a brilliant shade of green to rival her hide.

“Well, Y’kin,” Yinaya said, vision a bit blurred by the sudden onset of happy tears, “It looks like you and I will be working alongside one another, hm?”

Whatever tension Y’kin had still carried dissolved away when the woman before him laughed and pulled him into a hug. It was as much of a confirmation as he needed, and so he held her close, wrapping his arms around her tightly. She was so small, shorter than him and slight, albeit still muscled like any dragon rider. But no matter that, all the years of his childhood came rushing back, and Y’kin swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat.

This was—this was his mother. All his dreams, all his musings about who his parents had been, whether they had survived, what they had been… at least in part, had not been wrong. She was a rider, bonded to a bright and pretty Green that was prancing nearby, no doubt affected by her rider’s overflowing happiness, and nosing at him again. And even better than that, she seemed fully and completely accepting of what he had said, that he was probably her son.

And more than all of that, she seemed to care. In that, the Brown rider couldn’t help but feel like he was just a kid again, even meeting his mother after all this time. Something had clicked into place the moment she embraced him, and there was a very warm and buoyant sense of family that had bubbled up inside him where previously there had only been distant and aching hope.

It made Y’kin less self-conscious, when he realized that there were tears in his eyes, to see that there were in hers as well. “Yes,” he said, smile widening sunnily. “It seems that way.” He was reluctant to step away from her, despite the knowledge that they should go join their new Wing.

Drawn down from his weyr ledge by the proceedings, Aduskoth tucked his wings in close as he landed nearby, not overly familiarly but so that he could be closer to both Y’kin and Yinaya—and Rantasyth. He knew she wasn’t his mother, but he’d always had a respect for older dragons that had flown Threadfall longer than he had. So it was quietly, with an uncharacteristic shyness, that he greeted both the Green and her rider. My name is Aduskoth. It’s nice to meet you.

Yinaya wasn’t ashamed at the display of emotion. She’d spent so long walled up and detached that the lack of thread had really… unlocked that part of her. Now, with a clear sky overhead, it seemed all the more appropriate to share and feel everything and anything. So she reached out to wipe at his tears with a sweet smile.

Neither did she miss his reluctance to pull away. Having just met her, and she him, that was understandable. With a soft laugh, Yinaya wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him close so they could walk together. Close. As she’d never been with anyone in so long. That one of her children, a sweet son as cute as she’d ever hoped one of her kids could be, had survived… wonders of wonders. “So tell me, Y’kin,” she said, as conversationally as one might of the weather, “What have you been doing with yourself all these turn?” Yinaya flashed him a playful grin.

Aduskoth might’ve been shy, but Rantasyth was anything but. The Green trilled sweetly at the larger brown and bounced around him like a dragonet might around an older dragon. As though the roles were reversed – he was the older dragon and she were the younger, excitable hatchling. Injury or no, Rantasyth was just excited. Happy. She nosed at the Brown when she had fully circled him, pushing at his chest to try and get him to be just as bouncy as she was. I am Rantasyth and it’s a pleasure to meet family. Real family. she said, her eyes still as bright green as her hide.

“Try to calm yourself, Rantasyth,” Yinaya remarked to her dragon. “You’re going to hurt yourself all over again.” Then, playfully secretive to Y’kin like her Green might not hear, she added, “She acts like she just fell out of an egg. Incorrigible.”

When his mother reached out to wipe at his tears, Y’kin couldn’t help but smile. Even so many turns past when he’d quietly stopped waiting to meet either of his parents, this felt… perfect. With the sun beating down on them from above, with green grass beneath their feet, and the revelation that he had a tiny, precious family, the Brown rider felt like there were heavy weights falling off his shoulders now. And as her fingers touched his cheek, Y’kin caught Yinaya’s hand and squeezed affectionately. Shards, she was beautiful. And vibrant—just as much as her dragon.

He laughed when she flashed him a grin, and it was a genuine sound. A surprise to both himself and his dragon, after so many turns of death and destruction. Maybe this was a sign of good things to come. “Well,” he began, "I’ve been part of the Wings—I impressed in ’76.” All of the information came rushing out, and in a somewhat haphazard order. “So, flying Threadfall. I’ve had a few children…” Would she want to meet them?

He smiled again, sliding his own arm around her waist in return while they walked toward their new Wingmates. “Just trying to survive, mostly. I’m—” For once, even he stumbled over what to say. “I’m glad to finally meet you. I’ve been thinking about this for so long.”

Aduskoth’s trepidation disappeared when the bright-winged Green bounced around him in her excitement, clearly just as happy to meet him as their riders were to meet each other. The blue of his eyes shifted to a green, and he crooned at her as she nosed at him. Even trotting a few steps toward her in an almost pouncing gesture. He was excited too. Yes, it is. And then, because he was concerned to hear she’d hurt herself at all—You’re healing well?

Yinaya remained near him as they finally took their place amongst the other riders designated as Prairie – receiving odd looks from some and knowing from others. Given the roughness of the Pass, happy reunions and smiling Riders wasn’t all too odd a thing. Not when some might’ve lost touch over the shuffling of Wings and were only now reconnecting since Threadfall no longer kept them on separate shifts.

He had children? Her eyes went a little wide at that. She’d always felt a mother, but now a grandmother? And so quickly! “What a way to remind a woman how old she is,” Yinaya teased with a smile. “Do you know them?” It might’ve been a crass question but Yinaya wouldn’t have faulted him if he didn’t. Not after, well, she’d done that very same thing.

His description of the turns was pretty much her own though. Surviving. Flying Thread.

Unable to help herself, Yinaya idly combed through his hair. So fine and dark like her own. “I’m glad you found me,” she added softly. Still smiling, she glanced at Rantasyth. “She is that. Really livened up since the Pass has ended.”

Rantasyth continued to thrum her delight when the Brown finally responded to her exuberance. Her wings flared a little, only then would he be able to see the bandages along her sides near the joints. Precariously close to the thin membrane, having just missed that tender skin. Oh yes, I’m doing fine. I barely remember the injury, she answered and it was all true. The short memory of the dragons worked in their favor when it came to such things.

While she knew it had happened, and could remember why, it was mostly through Yinaya. Which also meant that the memory of the pain and panic was gone too.

“You don’t look that old to me,” Y’kin told her with another smile, surprising himself again to be teasing her. How different all this felt from the harsh horrors of the Pass. Almost like it was an entirely different world, in a different time; and in a way, he supposed it was.

At her question, his smile turned a little softer. Turns ago, during his childhood, he’d wondered why his parents had never come to find him. But over time, that wondering had ceased. As he grew older, Y’kin understood more and more why they hadn’t been able to—if they’d been alive at all, since at the time he had little way of knowing. And particularly when he’d had children of his own, the Brown rider had discovered just how difficult it was to make time for such things, no matter how much he might have wanted to.

With Thread always falling, there’d been little to do beyond flame it and sleep.

“I’ve… met them and know their names,” Y’kin explained, but some of the guilt he’d felt about all that melted away. She of all people would understand. “I haven’t had the time to be in their lives as much as I want with, well… everything.” Like his smile, his voice was a little softer then. And as much as it was an answer to her question, it was also a reassurance—an expression that he understood and didn’t blame her. Held no ill will.

But that soft smile widened once more when she combed through his hair. “I’m glad I did too.” Y’kin glanced at her dragon again. “And that’s good. I’m hoping that will be true for most here.”

When Rantasyth flared her wings, Aduskoth took note of the revealed bandages. Though they were alarming, the Green’s relative ease with them reassured him that all was well. I’m glad. Crooning, he drew closer and actually nuzzled against her neck. It’s so pretty here. I’ve never seen colors like this before. Shyly, he added, Though I think even the jungle pales compared to you.

Yinaya watched him. Not to judge or study, but in near wonderment. This felt too normal. For having just met him, her son, it felt like they’d been talking to one another for a lifetime. Was that good? Here, on the island, it seemed that so many things were possible. Like a dream, this was an entirely different life. A different world.

Greenery abounded around them, in a new weyr. A new start in a dying world. When they thought Thread wouldn’t ever stop falling.

She’d take this blessed chance at a do over.

Yinaya listened to his answer and knew the truth of his words. How anyone had managed to care for their children during the Pass, she’d never know. Stronger Riders than she’d ever be. Yinaya couldn’t have bore it in her heart if she’d been a true mother to Y’kin only to have him lose her to Thread. It was never a pretty, quiet death. Which he’d know, being a Rider. Having flown in the burning skies. Those they’d lost in that time had not gone quietly, but screaming into Between with their dragons.

She couldn’t have done that to him.

But now, with no Thread overhead, she could open up herself to the possibility of a relationship. Suddenly self-conscious, though still smiling, Yinaya ran a hand through her own hair before she asked softly, “Think I could meet them?” Grandchildren? She had grandchildren. That was… mind boggling.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes playfully. “I might not look that old, but apparently I am. The proof is standing in front of me, hm? Though I’m infinitely glad for it.”

Rantasyth was delighted with the affectionate move of the brown and easily returned the nuzzle. While she had no real concept of ‘family’ amongst other dragons, she knew what it meant to Yinaya to find her children and, to her, Aduskoth was then an extension of Y’kin and thus her ‘son of sorts’. She thrummed softly though her eyes were still an excitable green. It’s very pretty here. It’s nice to see so much green that’s not just other dragons, she agreed, peering around at the weyrbowl before she looked back to him. That and the trees seem happy here.

That his mother wanted to meet his children too just made Y’kin smile all the wider. This was… he didn’t think his first meeting with Yinaya could have gone better. To find not only that she was alive, but that she was enthusiastic about meeting him too—and even his own children—was everything he’d ever wanted from the fateful day he’d daydreamed of for so many turns. He’d spent all of his life believing he had no family at all. And though he didn’t hold that against her, Y’kin was unbelievably happy to find that she seemed just as interested in knowing him as he was in knowing her.

“I don’t see why not,” he said, though he softened his smile when she seemed a bit more nervous or self-conscious. Y’kin wouldn’t be surprised if this was the first grandchildren she’d ever learned of— even if she indeed had other children beyond him. And that was no doubt a rather large concept to get one’s mind around. Meeting a fully grown child would be a big enough event even without the revelation of another generation.

“Well, you certainly don’t look it.” An answer that he hoped she’d take sincerely, rather than awkwardly or as a falsehood. But he knew of others far younger than she who looked far older. No matter the hardships of the Pass, she seemed to have fared well. “I suppose it would be impolite of me to joke that the age of my own children makes me feel old at times?”

It did, truthfully, with Yenevin on the cusp of adulthood. So he could only imagine the effect would be all the more for his own mother.

Rantasyth returning the nuzzle had Aduskoth thrumming with affection and happiness—his own mood an extension of Y’kin’s own since his rider was in such high and joyful spirits. They do. The things were bigger than Aduskoth could ever have imagined, even from up in the air. And they were so green and vibrant, full of life. I hope we can be just as happy here.

Yinaya actually snorted a laugh when he said she didn’t look her age. Scars and the bone wariness she felt at times certainly made her want to suggest otherwise, but she wouldn’t dismiss the compliment when it was given. That seemed in and of itself petty, in a way. Even if he was just trying to be nice, it was still sweet. “I think anyone who has flown Thread is allowed to feel old,” she said amicably with a certain amount of pride. While she’d not have wished that terror on anyone, there was still a certain degree of pride and comradery with anyone that had.

There were no words that would ever be able to do such a thing justice. It was an experience, for better or worse, that simply shaped riders. That he’d survived it was a blessing and would forever shape him. As it had Yinaya. “If we get to choose where our weyrs should be, would it be too awkward for you to pick one close by?” Was that a weird request?

Rantasyth flared her wings a little and pranced in place. Do you like to play games? It seemed the only next logical request for the Green. She might still be recovering from the Pass, but she had no concept of that time. Not unless reminded of it. Besides, surrounded by so much loveliness, it would seem a waste if they didn’t have some fun.